The Writer and Life

Sunday, July 16, 2006

Play Dough vs. Your Editor

Play Dough vs Editor... Ah hA I see the connection!



Okay... just like something you would do to your ex's new wife...when you send the children, you also send PLAY DOUGH, reason being, give the heffa something 'more' ta do! Like she doesn't have enough to do, right? What, with undoing all the stuff you taught your kids, uninstalling all the great programs you had put in your husband...of course he was probably carrying a Trojan when they met...right, so you didn't want him anymore anyway...right? But okay, so you send the play dough, just to keep her 'EXTRA BUSY' cleaning it out of the carpet, off the walls etc...

Well I got ta thinking... viciously, as I usually am on revision night...what if, I love that process...the 'what if' process... what if, I spelled everything right, but didn't put not ONE point of punctuation in this WHOLE manuscript...not ONE blasted COMMA for her to delete, not ONE (....) for her to RED LINE not one (!) for her to call redundant... I'm serious, I mean, I might not even put in a period for her to highlight and point to so as to emphasize that this period in the sentence was NOT the end of the sentence but in fact the verification she needed to prove to me that I did indeed create a fragment...

Yeah, yeah, I'm just gonna write this darn story and give it to her AS IS...feel me? No punctuation at all. Like I have time to put all that in there anyway just for her to take out.


As if I don't have enough to do already. HEYYY, maybe that's it, maybe I'm like the new wife... and this editor thing is like my publisher's idea of PLAY DOUGH! Ohhhhhhhhh...SNAP! I get it!



That is crazy wicked... I love it.

Empty Nest?

EMPTY NEST??? what is that?
Current mood: crazy


Today called for a little journaling. I'm feeling the pressure to perform again, the pressure to perform circus acts, magic tricks, slight of hand and some little bitty miracles. I'm being called on to be a mother today and man, I had put my super mom costume away--especially after it got that biggo HOLE in the sleeve, how tacky is that? And no, I haven't outgrown it, like those spandex leggings but sheesh, I have wondered why I must wear it when I have no one to mother. Or at least no one who SHOULD need mothering. I have grown children who by all rights should be ‘mothering’ themselves, or even some little mirror images of themselves…or married to someone who can do it for them.



How long or god of the empty nest, will you forsake me, trick and beguile me into thinking that you are with me, that I can rest my head in your bosom and bask in all that you have to offer me in the way of freedom of my children? HOW LOOOONG will you deceive me into thinking empty nest means… EMPTY! I know, I’ll think I’ll change religion and start worshiping the god of redecorating, turn that room into a storage, yeah that’s what I’ll do, let me go find my Martha Stewart bible… I’ll be right back!

The Manuscript

Manuscript
Current mood: crazy


Tonight I dropped my manuscript. I know it sounds like such a simple thing. Pick it up, you might be thinking. Just pick it up...

But you don't understand it wasn't numbered. It wasn't numbered and I dropped it, all 243 pages of it...1.5 spacing.

I guess I could have just scooped it up and tried to get it back in order or even just started from the first page I found, but it was just too ... like wow.

So I gathered up my pages and sat them there next to my computer, I ate another of my apple slices that I had soaking in a good Firestone Riesling (who am I kidding, it was a Riesling but I picked it up from WINCO) anyway, I ate the apple slowly hoping for something... a buzz, a euphoria, a deep reasoning on WHY this horrible thing happened. Why this major set back. I mean, my night was going so well.

I had done all my laundry and even cooked dinner all before 8...I had well, apples, and Riesling for dinner (just kidding) I had ummmmm, oh heck I can't remember anyway, it was tasty enough and well, I settled into some writing, well, editing....

I hate editing. Let's get that straight so no, anything that upsets or otherwise interferes with the FLOW and GO of the process makes me like, I'm done!

Okay so, now I’m starting at page… who knows, wondering where and how to go on, to move forward!

And boy, are these apples good.

Should I just leave it as is and send it to my editor and say…sorry, I dropped it? Or maybe I should just reprint the WHOLE thing out again… with numbers this time… what a concept.


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Saturday, January 14, 2006

Truth or Fiction... which is easier to write


I write fiction because the more I thought about TRUTH in literature, aside from the BIBLE who really knows what the truth is. I mean, unless it comes directly from GOD I don’t believe anyone really knows the way it truly was. When I did that western with TL Gardner, The Legend of Morning, we did….well let me not lie (see what I mean, I was about to start talking FICTION right there) when TL did the research on the Seminole Indians in l860-l890 we were trying our best to find in the history of man where the Indians won! Being Native American, I know they did…okay, but I was trying to write the ‘truth’ according to history. It was very difficult and all I was able to even want to use was the research done on their costumes (I mean, uniforms). We decided we would write our own brand of history and even add alittle more…thus our non-fictionally based historical romance became a SCI FI WESTERN…

So now when I read about dude who told his OWN life story and is being accused of lying, I’m like DANG, who can tell you that your OWN life is a lie…I mean, realllllly how do they KNOW?

My life has been stranger than fiction on many occasions and I know looking at this middle aged grandma, you’d be surprised at some of the things I’ve done and places I’ve been…and more so people I’ve met! SO I stick with Fiction… and let folks GUESS if any of it’s based on true life.

It’s certainly cheaper then getting sued for writing your own life and being accused of lying about it! I’d rather someone else say, HEY that’s about me and me point to my disclaimer and smile wickedly “Nah... it’s just a coincidence.”

Love over 40

Love over 40
Current mood: amused


Being over 40 now, I thought about my mother who has been alone all of my life. I’m sure she wasn’t always alone or I wouldn’t have life, but for the most part, she and my father have been divorced all of my life. She was 35 when they split so that puts her in her 40’s when the realization that, hmmm this is it…hit.

My mother isn’t a liar, so yeah, I asked her if she ever dabbled over the line between friendship and intimacy during those years I was growing up, thinking my mother was a nun, you know, got nun, wanted nun and …

No, I have been celibate for forty years, was her answer and I believe her. Amazing though it may seem, however, I never saw a man in our house and none called on the phone or even sent a letter, so yes, my mother has been totally alone since she and my father called it halts.

So when I found myself January 1, 2000, divorced again, only this time at 40, my first thoughts about being alone woke me in a sweat.

At first I was so relieved to awaken fully dressed and sprawled out over the full width of my queen size bed. No longer did I have to share it with a naked man, insisting on holding the remote, talking about “Baby I need a burger,” at one in the morning, however, after the initial joy faded and I found myself annoyed at sweeping my own cracker crumbs from the sheets, I got to thinking, do I really enjoy being single.

No, I don’t…well, I don’t enjoy being ‘alone’, without the ‘man thing’ going on in my life. I miss the smell of a man in my bed, the feel of a man’s hands on my back, the size of a man’s shoes on my feet; yeah I get all the way into a man when I have one. I enjoy them…more than fish even better than having a cat or dog. Sometimes they are as messy as puppies and always trying to lick you on your mouth when you’re trying to talk to them about something important, like, why they left the mess by the door instead of letting you know they needed to go out, but you know what I mean. I miss ‘em.

But now, what would I be willing to trade in to get one? Okay, therein lays the problem…the trade. First, I have to wonder why I would have to give up or trade in or otherwise lose out on both the cake and eating it.

But that’s how it is with a man in your life. I had met a man once, like 2 years after my last divorce, back when I thought I could just fall back into this dating thing after having been married for 7 years, anyway, this man, in his late 30’s said “I’m looking for a woman like you.”

I asked, “And what kind of woman is that?”

He answered “An established woman, one who knows who she is.”

I, being excited at the possibility of having met someone so soon, was piqued. I was like, “Go on.”

And then he said, “Because I need to find myself I…”

I interrupted quickly and explained (with a lot of attitude in my tone, considering we were on a date and I was driving my car and getting ready to pay my money for the dinner—all of this was like, a BLAM, after this conversation and I took his butt home, dropped him off and shoot…wish I could remember his name) anyway I said, “I don’t need a man who is looking for anything, especially himself! I need a man who is already found.”

My mind immediately went to the stray dog thing…ugh, no way, they always show up so dirty. No…no, I’m at the white carpet point of my life…no more dirty dogs for me.

As an Author (and a very prolific one) I spend much time working on my craft—writing, editing, and just plain ol’ daydreaming. I’m not sure what kind of man could handle that. Well I guess if he was an author or otherwise self contained (tagged, bathed and house broken) he could manage to live without my hands-on care giving for a day or two and even find his way home if he got out. But if not, then we have issues. As with my grandchildren, they are in a constant ‘look at me’ mode and therefore I must stop and look…and often that causes a break in flow and leak of story fluidity. The bigger the child the longer you have to look and in the case of a MAN CHILD he may require all day! And I know, for me anyway, that is unacceptable.

Next we have that feeding issue, you feed a fish too much and they burst, you feed a dog too little and the start to eat out of the trash, you don’t feed a cat and they just up and leave…no notice what so ever. I hate the pressure. Always having to measure the portions and time the doling of ‘snacks’ just right…sheesh, that ‘feeding’ thing is, like, more than troublesome. I mean, I’m all for giving someone their ‘meal’ and I too enjoy a ‘tasty treat’ now and then but that threat of, “I will leave if I don’t get enough!” Well… I’ve never been fond of cats anyway.” (I hope you all were following me on this line of thought, if not—yes I was talking about sex)

Agree to disagree is one of the biggest lies in a relationship. Why do I say that, because nobody can agree on when and what to agree on. I mean, what part of the disagreement do you decide to agree on, his side or yours? Comeon, it’s a fake out thingy. Just when you think you’ve come to an agreement on the disagreement, you realize what you’ve agreed on is to accept the cold shoulder and silent treatment. For me, I’m totally fine with this silent thing nowadays, but back in my twenties and maybe even early thirties I was not cool with not being spoken to by the only other person who lived in the house with me.

Okay, I know what you’re thinking, what part of a relationship does she miss? I guess it’s the clothes, nah, I’m just kidding. I miss more than simply having a man’s clothing in my closet. What I miss is the vibe of the masculine aura around me. I miss the look, the touch, the laugher of a real man, a genuine smile that simply says ‘I like you a lot’.

The perpetual dating thing would work for me in my next marriage. I want a man who is confident enough to continue in the life he’s already got for himself only now he’s added me! Why take away from anything when you get with another person? Can’t I just be a wonderful addition to your life? Where you had holes I’m there to fill them.

Monogamy is not a question in my relationships. Monogamy doesn’t mean you can’t have friends of the opposite sex, it just means that now you don’t need to sleep with all of them looking for what I can now satisfy.

You chased your tail, bit at your fleas, slobbered on the ball which you retrieved time and time again (8-5 at least) and now all you want is a scratch behind the ear because nooo body does it like me (paw thumping like mad as I work my magic behind that ear). I want a man who knows his way home at night and is comfortable in his own bed with his own woman. I can’t have a man that I have to call more than once a day (and that one call was to simply remind him to grab something from the deli on the way home). I shouldn’t have to remind him all day, everyday, that we’re together! If his memory is that bad then heck, he needs medical attention not a wife.

Unless he met you at the ball park, chances are you are not a sports fan, and unless you answered an ad that said, ‘must love dogs’ which, to me, doesn’t say much about you as a potential mate (but then, I don’t love dogs), it would be dumb of him to suddenly give up those in his life who enjoy the things he enjoys and expect you to take their place.

Yeah, I want that man who is loyal and loving and yet, has a life that he really enjoys, one that he would love to tell me about at end of day! A well rounded man treats you like a woman, not his buddy, or his mother or just another female he may encounter on a daily basis. I may not be his best boon coon but I am his woman and he treats me accordingly. Face it, you may not be the prettiest woman he sees all week and if he doesn’t notice the one who was, he’s either lying or again, in need of medical attention—his eyes this time.

A well rounded man has a best friend (Who wants a man who doesn’t have any friends? What kind of person has NO friends?), he has a mother he adores, a father he respects and maybe some siblings he interacts with in a functional and healthy way but with you he should have an intimate companion, who he can be ‘real’ with on a level that is reserved only for the two of you—private and special. He wants the babies she can make for him or the ones she has already made (because they are a part of her) and she wants the babies she make from his seed or the babies he’s already made (because they are a part of him).

At this point in life there will be ex’s, they come with what is known as ‘life’ and if you two had lives, the ex’s will come. Like that line from that movie, which said, ‘If you build it they will come…’ life is like this if you divorce it, it will come back and HAUNT YOU when you lease expect or desire it too.

So I need a man who can handle an ex. I need a man who can easily accept that if I wanted those men, I could have them. He needs to have the confidence that he is a step UP not BACK and if he is smart and married me for my smarts that should be a no brainer for him.

If there is an ex Mrs., then whatever, she just better not send the kids over with the Play Doh because ‘you are gonna get it coming right back Miss Thang.’ I don’t play the Play Doh game (reference Blog on Editors and Play Doh). And as far as him returning to his ex or whatever, then he’s dumb…another medical problem.

Maybe I want too much out of my next relationship, I don’t know, but I don’t think so, I mean, I’m willing to do what it takes to keep love hot and alive, and I mean, at 40+ yeah, I have to put down the Doritos and pick up a better diet, and that kind of thing is expected in the dating game…best foot forward and all that jazz. I think it’s really stupid when I meet a man and he gets all crazy when he meet me and gets turned off that I’m carrying around a few pounds more than I should. I see it this way ‘weight comes off—stupid last a reallllly long time!’ And to lose out on what could be a really good thing over 20-30…okay just say it 40 pounds—well that’s STUPID! I love myself, I do, and I know I should treat myself better by eating as healthy as possible and devoting 4 to 6 hours a day to my external self, but realistically unless I marry Jack La Lane, cutting back on all that time in the mirror will be one of the first disagreements that I would be forced to agree with.

Because only one of you can have the LOOK AT ME thing going on and ladies I can tell you now, it isn’t gonna be YOU not at 40+ years old. What you got him to LOOK at before you got married better be what you come already equipped with, like Barbie; she COMES with everything she needs for the long haul! So if you are thick around the middle, lower or upper… heck just say it, if you are a BBW he needs to meet that person, because if you are big on the inside, and small on the outside, the big woman in you will come out! But having been small and big and small and big again I know that for the most part, the small woman in all of us just needs some love to stick around.

Shoot I’ve been known to drop 15 pounds instantly just getting kissed the right way.

In my mind, love is easier after 40 but in review of this article, I see that it could actually be in for quite the challenge. I’m not really sure I’m up too it, however, after 6 years of this ‘being along’ thing and the thought of facing the next 53 the same way, well, I’ve been rethinking stuff and maybe I can get ‘up for it’. Maybe I’m ready for the man who is confident enough to take off his shoes and step onto the white carpet of my life and enjoy the ride.

Oh and yeah, a little secret, my carpet flies. You just need to know the magic words.

© Michelle McGriff
Tuesday Poetry
I want a manYeah,
I admit it
by Michelle McGriff
I want a real man,
Not one on the down low
See I'm not into sharing
And surely not with no male ho'
I want a man who's not using
My bank account as a scale
Spending my money is conditional
I'm not paying no Negro's bail
That brings me to race
And I know I'm not right
But I need a true brother
Not Mr. Mighty White
I want a man whose gentleman enough to
Hold hands down the street
But who can work up the thug in him
And sweat up the sheets
I also need a man who's not looking
At my weight
Using that to determine
if I'm a good mate
Have you ever thought?
My diet I would cut
If I had someone else
Looking at my butt
I'm beautiful, not a beauty
Not 'Cover Girl' glam
But I'm smart, I'm mature,
And I love who I am
Don't want or need drama
No mess, no lies, no game
Just come correct,
straight and true
And I'll do the same
Copyright M. McGriff, The Wet August Company 2005

My Fantasy

My Fantasy
Had a fantasy one day

It took me far, far away

Had a lover, a dog and a loft

And a waterbed that was oh so soft

We planned our future he and I

That together wed grow old and die

Made love to country music all morning long

I woke of course and he was gone

But the smile I wore after that day dream

Lasted for days and days it seemed

Despite my real life with its negativity

I had a dream of how things could be

In my fantasy about he and me.


© The Wet August Company 2006

Just you (poem)

Just you (poem)
Just saying your name is like strawberries in winter,
decadent and exciting
Just seeing your face is like feathers on the skin,
comforting and soothing
Just hearing your voice is like chocolate and coconut,
sweet and lingering
Just feeling your touch is like a thunder storm brewing
frightening yet oh so awesome
Just being with you is like,
Wow

Poem--when I decide to love again

Deciding on love (poem)
When I decide to love again, I think I will choose a old friend.
Someone that I know and trust, and that knows me its a must
Love is not about giving up what youve got, its about sharing and growing is it not?
But then again, why do I have to give up closet space, doesnt he have his own place?
I've grown too quirky for anyone new; too tire for things new lovers do
So when I decide to love again, its going to be way different then how its been
No more abusive and dysfunctional choices, bullies who do nothing make loud noises
Cussing me fussing me, embarrassing me disparaging me
Why go through that, I'm so done, a loser strikes out bat, I want a home run
Im a mature woman, above the mediocre curve, Love, and Loyalty, is what I deserve
I need a relationship that God can bless, not just some raggedy confusing mess
So when I decide to fall in love again, I dont need a choice of many men
I'll choose you

why I would fall in love again.

Why I would fall in love with you again.

Because your eyes remind me of a hot cup of coffee on a winter morning and your smile, a cool glass of wine on a summer evening, your lips, slivers of melon when youre hungry but not starving, theyre just enough. Your shoulders are like a mountain range, a place of refuge and protection, your hands are the ropes thrown out for drowning man to cling to and your arms are like a bed frame, your belly my firm mattress, your thighs, heavy anchors that keep me planted where I need to be, your feet, always bring you home.
Why I would fall in love with you again

just because.

Feels Like Falling Excerpt

Feels Like Falling (excerpt)
FEELS LIKE FALLING
FEELS LIKE FALLING
by Michelle McGriff
URBAN/KENSINGTON 2006



Dedication
To Uncle Samuel, Cousin Michael, Uncle Son-Son, Uncle Ike, Uncle Preston, Cousin Tim, and all the other brave men in my family who fought and currently are fighting the battle with Cancer.


Uncertainty

Sebastian shrugged into the jacket of his tuxedo. He smoothed back his hair again out of reflex, yet knowing not a strand was out of place. The mirror didnt lie; he looked damned good.
About that time, TaRae moved up behind him, sliding her arm around his shoulder turning him to her.
She was dressed in blacka spaghetti-strapped number that showed off plenty of cleavage.
He couldnt resist and kissed her neck, inhaling her perfume. Her diamond earrings brought for her on their last anniversary tickled his nose as he gave her one more sniff for good measure, causing her to give way to flirtatious giggles.
Dont make me get naughty, she teased.
You can get naughty anytime you get ready, he flirted back, lightly biting her smooth neck. She pushed him away quicklybefore things went too far.
Were going to be late if you keep this up, she reminded him, looking at her watch.
Ahh, let em eat cake, he answered smugly, all the while knowing he wouldnt miss tonight for anything in the world. Hed worked too hard for this award and he knew he deserved iteveryone knew it.
TaRaes graceful movements were like dance steps as she slid from his tempting arms.
They were good together, the two of themno they were perfect togetherthat, Sebastian knew. There was nothing they couldnt conquer if they paired their mindshe believed that.
In their many years together, the two of them had conquered all things put before themwon all battles. Some fights they didnt realize they were in, until they had conquered themhindsight being their only remembrance. Yes, the Yorks were flying high without a net.
Tonights awardthe big thank you, complete with a plaque installed in the lobby with his name, thanking him for his contribution to the hospitals success, and his large donation to the childrens wing, more than spoke of his generosity and goodness as a human being.
And good things happened to good people,
Sebastian smiled at his beautiful wife as she bent over reaching for her shoe.
Yeahand its all good, he said audibly.
TaRae glanced over her shoulder at him, moving her hips back and forth more than needed while buckling her shoe. You better stop that flirting before I insist that you get naked Mrs. York.
Contemplating jumping her and grabbing a quickie before the ceremony, Sebastian waited for his body to dictate his next actions.
Will we have sex Sebastian He asked himself.
Shes definitely willing, came the internal response.
Stepping towards her, his intent was suddenly and quite uncomfortably derailed by the familiar, ache in his lower belly. Maybe it was nerves; maybe that nagging ulcer again. He grabbed at the pain. TaRae noticed.
Whats wrong sweetie? she asked, quickly putting on her Physicians Hat it was just slightly different from her Mothers Hat; either way, he wished she had neither. All he wanted was a wife, however, TaRae was a very talented general practitioner and he would never begrudge her career choicemade long before they met.
Nothing, he lied. I guess Im just a tad nervous about tonight.
Dont be, she purred, moving close to him and needlessly straightening his tie. You are the man, she added, her slang far from street potentshe was the most un-ethnic black woman he had ever met. And when we get home, Im going show you just how much a man you are, she promised, making a move on him.
Sebastian grinned, hoping their night would end with a follow through on her commitment made. He hoped his foreboding thoughts would not win out over his wonderful mood.
Its time for your physical Dr. York, his secretary had reminded him just the other day.
But there was no time for all of thatnot with this award thing coming up.
The pain was worsening by the second.
You sure youre okay, honey, TaRae asked again.
Sebastian pulled her into an embrace, Why dont you ever call me, baby, anymore, he teased, knowing how she hated the use of that particular term of endearment. She always said it sounded stereotypical and more like a cliché than a true expression of affection.
TaRae moved her face, avoiding his kiss, Im all made up, dear, she fussed, avoiding the pet name he requested. Sebastian shook his head and chuckled under his breath.
I guess I better make a pit stop, he finally admitted.
Ill wait downstairs. I want to make sure Precious has her last minute instructions, TaRae said, regarding their daughter Precious who was still a little huffed about not being included in the evening.

The limousine was waiting outside by the time TaRae, grabbing up her mink, had finished with Precious. Sebastian came down the stairs.
Thought you had gotten stuck in there, she commented, regarding his apparent last minute case of the jitters sending him to the bathroom.
His face showed disconcertion but then againsometimes a trip to the bathroom could be like that. She chuckled at the thought.
Precious was sulking in the den, still upset at being left out. Youll be bored out of your mind.
You treat me like Im nothing more than a child, Precious fussed.
TaRae shushed her with a quick kiss on the cheek. You are. Now stop trying to grow up way too fast. Enjoy your childhood. Blink and itll be gone.
Be good for Mommy and Daddy, okay Sweetie, TaRae requested. Glancing over at Sebastian, TaRae could tell he still seemed to be having some stomach discomfort.
You okay Sebby? she asked again. He nodded, but did not smile.
Be good, well check in during the evening, he added, speaking in Precious general direction. She rolled her eyes in irritation.

Stepping outside, the cool air hit his face. The sight of the stretch limousine brought a pleasant reality, one that helped him push the pain back; way backso far back in his mind he didnt give attention to it again for the rest of the evening. As a matter of fact, he didnt think much about the pain againuntil it was too late

Saturday, July 15, 2006

Chips in the Workplace

I will edit this later... but had to get it off my chest.

There are only a few types of people around in life and the workplace. Today I wanted to talk about the workplace and the types of people that you want to avoid there.
In the workplace there are Main Course/Worker Bees and Toss Green Salad/Day Dreamers and of course Potato Chip/Hater.
The Main Course/Worker Bee actually really and for true have no dreams, they make it through life each day working diligently at the task assigned. They often measure their worth by their work ethics. Never late, no vacations and despite working past their assigned time card they never cry for over time. They have few or no friends and often seek their escapes though TV, READING, MUSIC, they find pleasure and a secret decadence in reading steamy novels by ZANE or Erica Jong or watching shows like SEX IN THE CITY or HBO specials, and listening to music that fills their soul with emotion. Take a buffet table. The main course knows its place and never tries to be anything more than the main course, the purpose for the meal. The Main Course/Worker Bee does not envy the Toss Greens/ Day Dreamer nor do they belittle him for his or her light and airy way of creativity. The Main Course/Worker Bee understands how good for you a leafy green can be. Actually, they count on it for their survival in the workplace and in the case of a buffet table for the completion of the meal as the Toss Greens are often used to cleanse the palette. Main Course/The Worker Bee considers their lives outside the office private and personal and engages in very little gossip, despite how they are often praised for their good work. Just like the main course at a dinner party is often made from someones secret recipe, yet everyone raves about the good taste.
The Toss Green Salad/Day Dreamer on the other hand appears to be quite flamboyant and talkative, often accused of wasting time when in fact they are always working, to the point of exhaustion. They are sometimes late or extremely early as they are often manic, and seem to always have a ton of things on their mind. They arent gossipy so much as they always have some kind of fantastic story to tell about their life and things they managed to accomplish on the weekend. Its not that they are an undependable worker so much as they work harder and liking their jobs than just the perfunctory act of doing their job. Also they are consider a distraction and or troublemaker because often the Worker Bee will find themselves caught up, if pared with a Day Dreamer, taking time from their busy and productive day to listen to a tale every now and then as the Day Dreamers stories just seem larger than life. Just like at the dinner, often people load up on the salad taking up much of their plate room when in fact they arent even big salad eaters and the salad is seldom eaten. Despite how much they get they merely nibble before during or after their meal. Mixed with many different types of greens the salad is exciting and often for the regular diner who never buys salad at home, looks like something they might want to try. Thats what is good about a salad, it knows its worth and feels no need to pretend to be anything more than a salad
Then you get the Hater/Potato Chip. A Potato Chip in the workplace is often the loudest, flamboyanist, seemingly friendliest, overachiever kiss butt brown nosiest person on earth. It is nothing but a pretender. Here is why. Lets analyze the potato chip. The potato chip is one the deadliest foods you can eat. Although, void of all substance and nutritional value, they often are the most eaten food, craved and well liked food around. Often it will pretend to be things people like the mostbarbeque, sour cream and chives, salt and vinegar, evenfat free, when in fact if you read the back, they are all the same calorie, sodium, and carb count and nutritional value (or lack of). People miss the point where nutrition is concerned, calories dont mean near as much as nutritional value.
Lets pretend for a moment that the potato chip has special powers, the ability to persuade. When the buffet table is set, it would definitely explain why the potato chip bowl ends up at the front of the food chain. They are large and pretty and often placed in glass bowls and such, to make them very appealing. They are even sometimes sat around the room for easy access and temptation to try to eat just one. And we all know you cant do that.
The potato chips purpose in being there on the table at all is to entice the diner to fill up with empty carbs and useless calories so that salad is skipped all together and the main course is not enjoyed as much. In the end the diner, who after an hour or so, of dinner is often hit with indigestion and blames the main course for the discomfort. They often think, boy I wish I had only eaten the salad. The main course which, if it had powers of reasoning too, would be confused and disillusioned at this point and inwardly guilt ridden with plans to be nothing but better the next time, when in fact there was nothing wrong with it the first time. Now lets jump back to the office, the Worker Bee has done all they can on the presentation, hours of hard labor to make the presentation work. The Day Dreamer was the Worker Bees first chose to present the work because of the cleansing fresh, exciting way they have about them, however, The Hater/Potato Chip comes in with its constant bragging of I once was, or did, are have the ability to do, and as with the buffet table analogy, presented themselves as more worthy since they were served in a prettier bowl and appeared more appetizing than the salad who often is just green lettuce standing on its own merit, jumps up and will take the credit of being able to do the job, as with the buffet table its often the chip that tries to fill up the diner. The Hater/Potato Chip is often jealous of the salad because the salad knows its worth and is not afraid to sayIm a piece of a lettuce and Im good for you. The Hater/Potato chip will often move close to the salad in hopes of over shadowing it, since it can often (because of the huge bowl needed to contain it) can say its better, bigger and more important than anything else around yet because of their empty calorie affect, they leave a bad taste in the mouth of those that matter.

So the next time Im made to feel bad for being whom I am (Me? Im a Tossed Green Salad), and a hater tries to make me feel as if you should not be sitting on the buffet table because they dont understand my purpose, and or they try to make me feel as if I have nothing to offer or whatever, I just remember your worth and that Im a Salad and nothing more or less, Im fresh and exciting whether you like it or not. I dont have to pretend at being anything other than who I am whether I have a bean sprout added for extra ummph or a baby corn cob, either way, Im good for you. © Michelle McGriff

The Writer and Life

Saturday, July 15, 2006

The Writer and Life (reflection 1)
I suppose my writing life as been just another level in my over life human experience. Its not been better or worse than any other steps Ive taken on my way through this jungle. Its had its ups and downs, betrayals and blissful moments.
Ive had planned on writing about my life but frankly never felt it page worthy, not with all the ways I can throw a few of experiences into my fiction every now and then. But as I approach the century mark Im feeling reflective. When I put Michelle McGriff in the balance I am shy to pronounce the findings. But then again, how many of us are truly honest in the assessment of our worth on this earth. It often comes down to how others view us which is a sorry set of affairs, for who really loves you the way you love yourself.
Deciding if life has been good or bad is always a tricky thing to do because it could be crappy one minute and with just the jingle of the telephone change to something wonderful. I think that sucks and I feel like a prisoner sometimes, until I just say who cares then life is all good, at least for a minute.
I mean, how many times have you had the pills in your mouth and the water glass in hand and get interrupted by the doorbell and voila its a copy of your book in hardcover and you spit those pills out, like hell yeah I wanna live and then just a month later you go to Amazon and someone has shredded your dreams and youre like, now where did I put that cyanide pill I had?. Life is just full of rollercoaster rides complete with the puking and screaming, along with height and weight restrictions.
I have two non-fiction projects that are in the making one is a guidebook for new writers called The Business of Writing. Its basically going to recant my journey through all the things I did wrong. Im not too proud to admit it; I did a truckload of things wrong before catching on to the tricks of the tradethe main one being, just shut your mouth and write! The other project is a non-fiction, non-inspirational, non-judgmental, non-pity, ironic look at life from the eyes of Soul Mates who traveled through life missing each other by one coincidence after another. This story is to be written in a journalistic style in two voicesme and my soul mate. (The title is a secret)